What Can?

by Allison Grayhurst


Because I cannot
what I can not,
the labyrinth outside
is overwhelming. But what will come
down the slanted shingles
and tree trunks is a tomorrow
I strain to name in spite
of my heart’s foreboding.
Like a first laughter
awakened in a baby’s mouth or the child
who is finally old enough to be allowed freedom
to control and cope,
the way out is in,
to give nothing to fear
or the waste on the side of the road.
Because I cannot
what I can not,
I see a pinprick void and
a pile-up of perfect little vehicles.
But I can be brave,
I can pray
for things
my days can not.

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